It Is Play And Only Play That

Sentimental Poetry Differs From Naive Poetry In That It Relates The Real State At Which The Latter Stops To Ideas And Applies Ideas To That Reality.

To Live Is To Dream, And To Dream Pleasantly Is To Be Wise.

Innocence Has A Friend In Heaven.

Revenge Is Barren Of Itself: It Is The Dreadful Food It Feeds On; Its Delight Is Murder, And Its End Is Despair.

Only Those Who Have The Patience To Do Simple Things Perfectly Will Acquire The Skill To Do Difficult Things Easily.